They asked her why she would not dress naked
Like fellow daughters of Eve
Why she wouldn’t drag her feet back into the room
At two in the morning, stilettos in hand
Oozing with the smell of booze
Why she did not change partners
Like the chameleon
Or hop from bed to bed
Like the proverbial frog
Why she could not bear to tell
Even the whitest lie
Nor talk about Bola
Right behind her back
Why she always kept to time
And would take no shortcuts
No reason she gave would suffice
Social, cultural or religious
So she looked them square in the eye
And said;
A daughter well acquainted
With the mother’s shoulder piece pattern
Would never dress otherwise
Bibi’ire o se f’owora.


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